


Chapter 1

by its_a_religion



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, DESPITE THE TITLE THIS /IS/ A COMPLETE FIC, Depression, I wrote this because I can't wait for wayward son, M/M, No Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Violinist Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, but they do take a bath together, simon snow is lying on the sofa, soft, you can't just give me one sentence rainbow otherwise this happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_a_religion/pseuds/its_a_religion
Summary: Simon Snow is lying on the sofa.Simon Snow spends an awful lot of time on the sofa these days.Basically I wrote a fake first chapter to wayward son because I can't wait until september for the actual book to come out and I needed to do something in the meantime so here we are.





	Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning!! this does include heavy implications of mental health issues such as depression, anxiety, and ptsd. PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THESE TOPICS THANK YOU

**Baz**

Simon Snow is lying on the sofa.

Simon Snow spends an awful lot of time on the sofa these days. I asked him why last week, but he didn’t answer, just shrugged like usual and jammed his face into a pillow.

Penny told me, once, that Simon said it's easier to lay on the sofa than anywhere else because of his wings. I think that’s a load of bollocks and that he just doesn’t want to get up.

Not that I blame him. 

He never wants to get up anymore. I thought that after a while he would start to bounce back. And for a little while it seemed I was right. That was before he had his first flashback. Now he rarely speaks anymore, sometimes he will go so long his voice will sound scratchy when he does finally contribute a word or two to the conversation.

I gaze down at the boy in front of me, laying on the sofa. His wings spread haphazardly behind him. tail tucked between his legs. His eyes are open, staring blankly at the cushion he’s facing.

He gets this faraway look in his eyes so often I've wondered, sometimes, if he won’t, or can't, come back from wherever his mind has taken him.

But, in true Simon Snow fashion, he always comes back.

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at him.

I don’t know if he knows how lost I feel.

I just want to help him.

I just want to remind him how loved he is.

**Simon**

I can feel Baz’s eyes on me.

Weirdly, my first thought is that I want him to play his violin for me.

But I also want him to wrap me in his arms and never let go.

And I want him to kiss me senseless.

And I want him to comb his hand through my hair and tell me everything will be okay.

I just want _him_. I suppose I could just ask. He’s told me I can ask him for anything, but the effort it would take to move my head, look at him, _speak_ , it's too much.

I feel like such a failure.

**Baz**

I see a tear drip off Simon’s nose. I don’t even know if he knows he is crying.

“Snow,” I say softly, “Simon?”

His eyes slam shut as he stifles a sob and my heart breaks a little.

**Simon**

I hear Baz say my name. My last name first, then he says “Simon” so softly, full of so much love that I can't take it.

A lump forms in my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

I have always felt so weak crying in front of Baz. I've hardly ever seen _him_ cry and yet I seem to end up in tears at least twice a day. Penny says it's because I went through a ‘traumatic experience’ but that’s a load of shit because I cried more than Baz when we were still at Watford. In fact, _he_ was often the reason I was crying. Not that I blame him. I just feel weak.

Baz must be able to tell I need help because I feel a hand on my side, tugging gently in an attempt to get me to roll over.

I open my eyes again and the hand stops. Bless my boyfriend for knowing not to rush me. If I had the energy I would thank him and tell him how much it means to me that he is always here, and I would tell him how much I love him. How infatuated with him I am. He would smile if I used the word ‘infatuated’ in a sentence.

“Look at you using big words, Snow,” He would say, “I didn’t know you had the ability.”

But I don’t say anything. Instead I turn my head to look at him. My eyes are blurry with tears, but he is still the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

I don’t deserve him.

**Baz**

Simon stares up at me and his face just looks so broken. It looks like someone sucked all the hope out of him and replaced it with an indescribable and unending sadness. I want to take that pain away from him, but I know I can't.

With any luck, however, I'll be able to ease the hurt for a little while.

I keep my one hand on his waist, my other seeks out one of his hands which I use to pull him up to his feet. He lays his head on my shoulder and I wrap him into a hug as he balls his fists in my shirt, tears making a rather large wet spot on my shoulder. I don’t mind. I let him do what he needs to do.

He’s trembling. Like properly shaking in my grip. I think we should move to the bedroom and lie down but I don’t know if Simon can walk that far right now.

It's really not that far, just across the room, but when Simon has his really bad days, like today, sometimes he can only go a few paces before his legs give out.

“Simon,” I say gently.

“Baz,” he croaks in response.

I am so relieved to hear his voice that I almost forget that I was going to ask if he could walk.

I don’t forget.

I ask.

He shrugs.

“Do you want to stay here or go to the bedroom?” I ask.

He shrugs again.

“Or I could make tea and we can sit out on the porch? Some fresh air might be nice.” I suggest.

Another shrug.

I sigh softly, “Simon I need to know what you want to do.”

“I don’t know.” He whispers in response.

“How about we move to the bedroom,” I suggest, “I can make us some tea and grab a box of biscuits and we can watch movies and lay together.”

Simon doesn’t respond immediately, like he needs a moment to understand what I said. I don’t rush him. Eventually, he nods, loosening his grip on my shirt and flattening out his palms on my stomach. I can feel his hands shaking, but I choose not to draw attention to it knowing Simon already has enough going on inside his head.

He grips my waist; his fingers dig into my skin. It almost hurts but I say nothing. He’s grounding himself. Who am I to stop him?

**Simon**

I'm gripping Baz harder than I should be but I'm afraid he will disappear if I let go. He doesn’t seem to mind so I don’t stop for another few moments.

When my grip lessens he sets his palm flat in the middle of my back and uses his other hand to turn me towards my bedroom door. We walk slowly across the living room, Baz’s hand firm and grounding on my back.

It's almost enough to make me cry again but I bite it back.

I feel like I might fall apart.

**Baz**

I wish I could just read Simon’s mind. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. I can tell he’s filling up with emotion again.

The way his emotion fills up inside him and spills out when it becomes too much reminds me a lot of his magic. The way he would fill up and spill out and eventually go off is the same.

But now he has no magic. He’s filling up and spilling out and going off _because_ he has no magic.

I suppose there are other factors too, but I know that him losing his magic is one of the biggest reasons he’s in this state.

We make it into his bedroom, the curtains are drawn, and the bedding is barely on the bed anymore.

“Crowley, Simon,” I want to say, “didn’t anyone ever show you how to make your bed.”

I hold my tongue.

I lead him to the desk and sit him down in the chair.

“I'm going to make up the bed, love,” I say when he looks up at me.

He drags his eyes to the bed, surveying the scene in front of us. And then he breaks.

**Simon**

I don’t know why the bedding is what pushes me over the edge, but as soon as I see, really see, the state of my room I realize just how much of a failure I am.

I don’t mean to start crying, but I realize I am.

I try to hide my face in my hands but it's getting harder to breathe and my hands are just in the way.

It's getting harder to breathe.

Why is it getting harder to breathe?

I can't breathe.

I can't see anything.

I can't breathe, and I can't see, and I can't hear anything but screaming in my ears, and I think I may be dying.

**Baz**

I watch, frozen, as Simon starts to hyperventilate.

He’s clutching at his chest as his breathing picks up.

He squeezes his eyes shut and I want to reach out to him but I'm afraid I might scare him.

I consider using magic to calm him down, but his therapist told Penny and me that he needs to be able to pull himself out of these episodes without magic.

It makes sense, since he doesn’t have magic, but _I do,_ I feel like I should be allowed to use _my_ magic on him, but she said no and he agreed with her and that is that.

“Simon,” I say firmly, hoping he can hear me, “Simon, you need to slow your breathing down.”

He makes no move to indicate he heard me.

“ _Simon,”_ I try again, more forcefully, “Simon look at me.”

He does. His eyes snap up to meet mine and they look wild. His pupils are blown so wide the blue that usually greets me is nowhere to be seen. 

He looks like a wild animal, a spooked wild animal.

**Simon**

My eyes focus in on something.

I'm not sure why.

I realize I'm looking into a set of stormy eyes.

Baz.

My beautiful Baz.

I wish I could apologize to him.

“I'm sorry Basilton,” I would say, “I'm sorry I'm not enough.”

I'm not enough.

I'll never be enough.

**Baz**

I am about to ask if I can touch him when he reaches out a shaking hand and touches my face.

“Baz,” he says. He says it so quietly I wouldn’t have heard it had I not seen his lips moving.

“Take a deep breath, love,” I say, not breaking eye contact.

Then he smiles the saddest smile I've ever seen in my life.

“I'm not enough,” he rasps, “I'll never be good enough for you.”

**Simon**

Oh. Guess I can say it then.

**Baz**

I think I can feel my heart shattering. This boy. This tragic excuse of a boy is so much more than enough. He will always be more than enough for me.

I can feel my eyes welling up, so I lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead and then his lips. He can't see me cry if his eyes are closed.

“Simon, you absolute idiot,” I murmur against his mouth, “you will always be enough.”

He pulls back. His teary eyes gazing into mine again.

His breathing has evened out somewhat. Enough that I'm sure he will be okay in a few minutes.

He leans forward, as I move to stand up, and rests his head against my stomach.

I run a hand through his hair. It's greasier than usual, his curls less voluminous than they should be. I wonder when he last showered.

I wonder when he last ate.

I wonder when he last did anything to take care of himself.

“I'm going to make up the bed now love,” I say to the top of his head. I feel him nod into my stomach and then he pulls away and stands up, the chair pushing back as he moves.

He presses his lips into mine, quickly, then sits back down on the chair and looks down.

I wish there was more I could do to help him.

**Simon**

Baz has done so much for me.

I wish I could do more for him.

I watch him make up my bed.

Then tidy my room.

Then he glances at me and says, “I'm going to run a bath for us. You can stay here, and I can get you when it's ready, or you can come with.”

He offers his hand to me.

I take it.

I really don’t want to be alone right now.

**Baz**

I've found that Simon often doesn’t want to be left alone on days like these, but I don’t want him to feel like I am mothering him or worse, that I _pity_ him. So, I ask him if he wants to stay put or to come with me.

Unsurprisingly, he comes with me.

I run the bath. It’s a little cooler than I’d like it but one thing that hasn’t changed about Simon is how warm he always is. I used to think it was his magic that kept him like that but now I think he really is just a human furnace.

I'm just finishing up when Simon exits the bathroom swiftly.

I jump to my feet and chase after him.

Well, chase is a strong word, but for someone who could barely walk across the living room earlier, he is moving quickly.

I catch up with him as he opens his bedroom door.

“Simon!” I say, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.

“I need to deal with these,” Simon responds quietly. He gestures to his wings and walks into Penny’s room without knocking.

I didn’t even know she was home.

**Simon**

I need Penelope to spell away my wings so I can take a bath with Baz.

I tell her that I need them gone for a while. I leave out the bath part.

“ ** _Vanish into thin air_** ” She says, I assume it's just with a little magic. Too much and she might make _me_ disappear.

This spell never lasts long, but it should last long enough to take a bath.

“Thank you.” I tell her, earnestly.

She just looks at me sadly and squeezes my shoulder.

**Baz**

Simon walks back into the living room, wings not visible. His tail is still there though.

I secretly love that tail of his.

I know it's weird, but it's so cool.

My boyfriend has a _tail._

“Ready?” he asks me.

I feel like I should be the one asking him that, but I don’t say so. Instead I just nod and take his hand in mine.

“My wings should be gone for at least a couple of hours,” he says. “I had Penny spell them away.”

I nod again and let go of his hand moving to rub his back instead. I'll give him a proper massage in the bath, but I figure I can start relieving him of some pain now.

I’m also glad he’s found his voice again. It scares me a bit when he doesn’t talk. I’m used to him shrugging, _a lot,_ but when he _only_ shrugs, I worry.

And, to be perfectly honest, I miss his voice when he doesn’t use it.

Additionally, on these bad days, when he does finally find his voice again, there’s a chance he will actually tell me what he needs so I don’t have to keep guessing.

I hate guessing.

We enter the bathroom and I undress myself and then help Simon do the same.

He really is the most beautiful person on the planet.

I settle into the tub first, then motion for him to follow.

He lays between my legs, eyes closed.

I wish there was more I could do for him, but I can only do so much. So, instead of wishing I could do more, I wash his hair.

I wash his hair and I massage his shoulders and he moves to sit up so I can massage his back. I wash him while I work on loosening the knots in his back.

I wonder if his muscles are so tight from the wings or from stress. Probably a combination of both.

I'm working on a particularly tight spot when Simon abruptly turns around to look at me. Water sloshes out of the tub, but I don’t mention it.

“Will you play for me?” He asks.

“I'm sorry?” I say, confused. Play what?

“Violin,” he says, “will you play your violin for me?”

“We are a little preoccupied at the moment,” I say with a small laugh.

He rolls his eyes but there is a faint hint of a smile dancing across his lips. It's a beautiful sight.

“I meant after” he says. And then just for good measure he adds on, “you numpty.”

I smile at that. He’s joking again.

“Yes, Simon,” I respond, pressing a kiss onto his cheek, “I'll play for you.”

**Simon**

I'm glad I asked Baz to play for me. He didn’t seem even a little bothered by my request either. It feels good.

I am sitting on the bed as he turns the little nobs on the top of his violin. I am about to ask what he’s doing to it when he stands up.

Slowly, he starts plucking at the strings. Then he picks up speed, plucking twice as fast. Or more, I can't tell.

A few moments later he drops it down to his chest and starts strumming it. Literally strumming his violin like it's a guitar or something.

Before I can get used to it, he’s got it back on his shoulder and he’s pulling and pushing the bow back and forth his other hand changing positions so rapidly my head can't keep up.

The song is beautiful. I wonder what it is.

He’s swaying along to the tune. Dipping and twisting and bending as the music does so too. His feet, however, never move.

The song amps up and out of the corner of my eye I see Penny walk through the open door.

I don’t think Baz notices.

**Penelope**

I hear violin coming from the other room. I know it must be Baz because Simon has the musical ability of a numpty and because I remember when Baz brought it here the first time and then never brought it back to his flat.

He basically lives here but doesn’t pay any rent.

I don’t really care, I'm just saying.

The music coming from the other room is beautiful, I want to go listen, but I don’t want to intrude. I figure I can listen better from the living room, so I walk out of my room and when I see Simon’s door is open, I figure I can just watch from there.

I walk in and I see Simon see me.

I don’t think Baz notices.

He’s really talented. Like properly talented. I don’t think I've ever actually been paying attention when he’s played in the past and I am blown away.

He’s got his eyes closed. The music is almost like magic, just flowing out of him effortlessly. It brings tears into the corners of my eyes.

He finishes his first song, takes a deep breath, and starts anew.

He doesn’t even open his eyes.

**Simon**

He’s started a new song. I still don’t think he knows that Penny is standing in the doorway. I guess it doesn’t really matter.

This song is different. It starts out almost angry.

Well, not quite angry, more…sullen.

Is that the right word? I think so.

Slowly it morphs. From sullen to more hopeful. It's beautiful.

I look at Baz’s face. His eyebrows are knit together, and his eyes are still closed. I wonder how he plays without looking. You’d think he would need to see the violin to play it, but I guess not. I don’t really know much about music anyway.

The tune morphs again, much darker. This one is longer than the song he played previously. Much longer. And I feel like he’s telling a story. It feels like our story, but I don’t dwell on it because I'm not sure.

It's gotten softer, more hopeful, but softer at the same time. He pulls his bow back across the strings for the final note and his other hand shakes the string making the sound bounce in my ears. A tear slips down my cheek but I'm smiling.

Like really, properly, smiling.

I hear Penny sniffle as well.

**Baz**

I’ve just played the final chord when I hear a sniffle from the doorway. My eyes shoot up and I see Penelope in the doorway wiping tears from her eyes.

“That was beautiful, Basilton,” she says. I give her a small smile and a quick nod of thanks in response.

“Baz?” Simon says from the bed and I turn to look at him. “What songs were those?”

“Oh,” I say dumbly, “well, er, do you remember when you showed up at my door wearing half the country side?” I ask.

“Which time?” He responds. This makes both Penny and I laugh. But Simon just keeps staring at me, waiting for an answer.

“The first time.” I say.

He smiles, “right, the first time I saw you wearing jeans.”

For once I'm glad I haven’t fed yet today because I would be blushing furiously right now if there was any blood with which to blush. _Of course,_ that’s how Snow remembers it. I love him so much.

“Yes, that time,” I say, pointedly not looking at Penny, “the first song was the one I was practicing when you showed up. _I Am the Antichrist to You_ , by Kishi Bashi _._ ”

“And the second song?” Penny pipes up.

I look down at my shoes and sigh.

“That one doesn’t have a title,” I say, “not yet at least.” I pause. “I haven’t finished it yet.”

“You wrote that?!” Penny and Simon say at the same time.

“Er-“ I say eloquently, “Yes?”

“Crowley, Baz, I knew you were talented but I didn’t realize the extent,” Penny says practically bouncing up and down. “You could pursue this as a career if you wanted to!”

I don’t want to. I like to just play. Violin is too personal for me to turn it into a job. I don’t want to ruin it. I also don’t want to explain that to Bunce so I opt to give her a small smile instead. She smiles back and then leaves the room, shutting the door behind her and calling out something about making tea. I look back down at Simon.

He’s crying again. Damn. I think of what I should do and then he smiles. A big genuine smile.

“I love you, Baz,” he says to me. “I don’t tell you enough but thank you and I love you.”

“I love you too, Simon,” I say as I put my violin away. Once I'm done I allow him to pull me onto the bed on top of him. I take the opportunity to crash my lips into his.

We make out lazily for a while, until Snow breaks away and flips us over so I am on my back and he is above me. I think things might be about to escalate when Simon literally flops on top of me and buries his face into my chest, inhaling deeply. I wrap one arm around him, pulling him in tight. I bring my other hand up to card through his hair and he sighs contentedly.

I know I can't fix him. No one can. But I do know he will get better. Slowly, over a long time, he will get better. And if I can make that process a little more bearable then I will.

**Simon**

“I love you,” I say to Baz as he gently tugs a knot out of my still damp hair, “I love you more than anything.”

I don’t need to look up at him to know he is smiling when he responds, “I love you too Simon Snow. I'll never stop.”

I know he can't fix me. I don’t think anyone can. I'll probably be broken forever, but if he doesn’t mind my broken pieces then who am I to push him away.

**Penelope**

I knock softly on Simon’s door, wait a moment, then push it open. I originally planned on offering these two idiots some fresh biscuits and tea, but the lovesick fools have fallen asleep.

They are tangled together, and I snap a quick photo (for blackmail) before I pull a blanket over their legs. I only pull it up to Simon’s waist, knowing his wings will need space when they reappear.

Simon looks so peaceful when he’s asleep. Baz does too, but in a different way. Baz just looks like he’s not plotting. Simon’s peaceful looks like childhood innocence, something he never actually got to experience.

Seeing them like this gives me hope. I know we have a long road ahead of us but I think someday we will be okay. Baz will be okay, I will be okay, and most importantly Simon will be okay.

He deserves it more than anyone. He deserves to be okay.

I glance back at them as I leave Simon’s room.

The tea can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of Simon's symptoms are based off my own experiences, but please tell me if anything is inaccurate or hurtful. Kudos and comments make my day! hope you enjoyed!
> 
> The first song baz was playing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpZyCIF841Q 
> 
> I chose this version over the actual music video bc you get to see him play and get a taste of Baz's talent. 
> 
> If I made more of these would people read them?


End file.
